That’s when I knew God was a regular guy, talking to me and saying regular things like damn.

“I’ma start little, with a earthquake see, get everyone thinking. Get ‘em scared. That’s how I work. Then I hit ‘em with something a little bigger, a hurricane, I’m thinking.”

“Wow. That’s smart, God.”

“Yeah, I’m a thinker. Always figuring how to scare people out of their pants. Keep ‘em guessing. Like those boys at Guantanamo.”

“What next, God.”

Well, I haven’t quite figured that one out, boy. I’ve tried just about everything under the sun. Even destroyed a few cities. Even floods. Worked for awhile but then, they fell right back to their old habits.”

“Not at all. You’re God, Sid. You can be anything you want, boy, girl, horse, computer, you name it.”

“Okay, go on.”

“Well, here’s my plan. Remember when you dispatched all the male children?”

“Vaguely.”

“Well, this time, you render the women in D.C. repulsive.”

“So?”

“It’ll drive the Democrats nuts.”

“What about the Republicans.”

“Their women are repulsive anyway. Save your energy.”

“So what’s your point, Bobby.”

“Well, Sid, the real problem in D.C. isn’t Obama, it’s the Republicans. They’ve got the Democrats running so scared I think we have a new species evolving, the spineless Democrat.”

“Hey, don’t use spineless in my presence. I’m the Intelligent Designer. I decide who and what evolves.”

“True, Sid, but the manufacturing process went awry someplace.”

“I see your point. What do I do?”

“Well, here’s how I see it. Feel free to chip in anytime. We’ll pull a reverse switcherroo on ’em. Instead of leaving Repub women repulsive, we’ll make ’em enticing.”

“You’re a good guy. I’m beginning to like this. Fire away.”

“Well, remember the lamb’s blood on the door of believers?”

“It’s coming back to me.”

“Well, this time, believers use the blood of a virgin and write R on their door. When you pass over, you touch all women within and, voila, they become irresistible reproducing machines.”

“Oh, Lord, I love it.”

“Here’s the kicker, Sid. The Republicans will become so tired from multiplying, they’ll call in sick every day and the Democrats can finally pass their own agenda. No more gridlock. Prayers will taper off and you can go fishing again.”

“God, you’re a genius.”

“Well, I try.”

“No, I meant me. I’m a genius. I’m assigning you to my staff immediately. Angel in Charge of Devious and Evil Ideas.”

“There is one hitch, Sid.”

“What’s that Angel?”

“The Republicans will probably spend so much time multiplying they won’t have time to worship you.”